


Fang

by SecondDerivative



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Brute Force, Dubious Consert, Duhumanization, M/M, Pain Kink, Pre-Gronder Dimitri, Tagging Noncon to be safe, Under-negotiated Kink, Unresolved Emotional Tension, unhealthy behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondDerivative/pseuds/SecondDerivative
Summary: Dimitri gives him no mercy. He growls, pinning Felix to the floor. His metal gauntlets, chipped, jagged, sharp, search under his shirt and rake again against Felix’s open wounds. His knee on Felix’s back keeps him down as his other hand tugs Felix’s hair, hard. “Does it hurt?”It’s so painful, Felix can’t even answer him - he doesn’t trust his voice not to morph into whine or whimper.He feels Dimitri shift behind him, feels his weight bare down on him as he leans forward, his lips so close to the tips of his ear that Felix can feel the ghost of his teeth on the outer shell.  “It does,” he answers for him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Fang

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: Please read the tags. Thank you.

The beast has sharp claws.

Every day they aren’t fighting and every night they’re supposed to be asleep, Felix finds him in the cathedral. His gauntlets that might as well be talons are always wrapped around the shaft of a bloodstained spear, metal reflecting against metal, in grip so tight it appears as if the spear is the only thing keeping the beast upright - but Felix isn’t fooled. He may be thin and rotting from the inside out, but that frame has the strength to demolish a battalion of men with a few well-placed swings.

He knows of his ferocity better than anyone, so why - when he’d usually observe from the shadows - he decides to provoke the beast tonight, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s because everything aches: his muscles are sore; bandaged wounds ache; even his head pounds with the constant choices between bad and worse. He kept close to him today, as he always does - if Dimitri won’t look out for himself and everyone else refuses to see, who else will? 

But his proximity means he’s there to witness the beast’s atrocities. He has said, has sworn up and down that the Dimitri he knew, the Dimitri he cared for, had died long, long ago. So why is it that the beast’s every vile utterance, every word addressed to a ghost, is more painful than everything else combined? The turmoil in his head, the ache in his bones - they don’t match, and Felix doesn’t understand.

He should have given up already, as he says he has, and yet, he’s here.

He shouldn’t provoke the beast, but his body surges with anger, with something more than anger, and he steps out from behind the pillar. Above him, through the hole in the ceiling, the stars shine dully. The weakest beam of moonlight sifts through.

He doesn’t remember if they talked or not, but he does remember that he threw the first punch, aiming for the beast’s head, but it missed, echoing instead against Dimitri’s armored palm, the sound reverberating through the cathedral. The beast's spear skid meaninglessly across the floor, clattering against the rubble as they fought without weapons, eye for an eye, tooth and nail. 

But without a weapon, what is a man to a beast? With a powerful pivot, and a snap, Dimitri knocks Felix to the floor, and his breath rushes out of him upon impact with the stone. He gags, unable to breathe, unable to move.

Dimitri gives him no mercy. He growls, pinning Felix to the floor. His metal gauntlets, chipped, jagged, sharp, search under his shirt and rake again against Felix’s open wounds. His knee on Felix’s back keeps him down as his other hand tugs Felix’s hair, hard. “Does it hurt?”

It’s so painful, Felix can’t even answer him - he doesn’t trust his voice not to morph into whine or whimper. 

He feels Dimitri shift behind him, feels his weight bare down on him as he leans forward, his lips so close to the tips of his ear that Felix can feel the ghost of his teeth on the outer shell. “It does,” he answers for him. 

He yanks Felix’s hair back further to expose his neck to him, and this time, Felix does let out a pained groan. The collar of his shirt is shredded from earlier so when Dimitri’s breath skims his throat, Felix can feel the heat, the humidity of his breath. His blood, already rushing with adrenaline, speeds up in his veins. A shiver runs down his spine when he feels the flat of Dimitri’s tongue against his pulse - warm, gentle almost, in contrast to the tension like needles in his scalp. “And you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

Felix once again tries to push him off, but Dimitri’s hold on him is like steel. “No,” he croaks out. But his heart pounds in his chest, and he’s so tightly-wound, his toes curl in his boots.

Instead of backing off, however, Dimitri flashes his teeth, and the points of his canines catch the light. “But you _will_.”

He opens his maw, and the next second, Felix feels Dimitri’s teeth pierce the tender part where his shoulders join his neck before he instinctively cries out. His mouth comes away smeared with blood, _Felix’s_ blood. 

When Dimitri finally lets go of his hair, Felix gasps at the sudden loss of tension, and takes in another shaky breath when Dimitri goes for his neck again, expecting the sharpness of teeth, but is greeted instead of the soft press of lips, soothing and trailing up his neck. He lets out a soft groan.

Dimitri’s gauntleted hands roam his chest, pushing up his shirt as he uses the pads of his thumb to tease his nipples. The metal of it is cold, and while Dimitri is being gentle now, both of them know how sharp the tapered ends of his fingers are. The difference between them is: Felix is not in control. 

Felix’s breath is ragged even before Dimitri flips them chest to chest and brings their lips together in a consuming kiss. Dimitri’s tongue pushes past his lips - he could conquer, steal Felix’s breath away completely, suffocate him with his want, but instead, he grazes the tips of Felix’s incisors, slipping against the front of Felix’s teeth. Before Felix can even think to bite down, Dimitri nips the bottom of Felix’s lips and withdraws, icy blue eye laughing as he looks down at Felix with a savage smile. He shifts lower, straddling Felix’s hips and grinds downwards, and Felix can _feel_ how hard Dimitri is through his breeches. And fuck - Dimitri’s eye slips closed and as he becomes acquainted with the size and heat of Dimitri’s arousal, Felix can envision it, and the image causes a heat seperate from the physical duress to flare in the pit of his stomach. If Dimitri’s mad, he must be worse, because he’s hard, too, and it’s taking everything he has not to make a sound - not that he can hide much from him at this rate.

As if reading his mind, Dimitri digs the tips of his claws into Felix’s chest, and the pinpricks of pain mixing with his building arousal cause Felix to give another shout. 

“Look at you,” Dimitri croons. His voice is low and rough that causes the heat in Felix to spike in a way he’d rather die than admit out loud ever. He digs his fingers in again, rubbing the bloody cuts he made in Felix’s sides. He’s not bleeding much by any means, but he can feel what’s there cooling on the surface of his skin. “Do you like this, Felix?”

“Fuck you,” Felix spits, but his breath is coming so fast that his words don’t have the punch he wants them to have. “Fuck you,” he repeats, with even less success than the first time. 

Dimitri just flashes him another disgustingly self-satisfied smirk and kisses him again, this time rough with tongue and teeth and iron. With one hand, he pins Felix’s hands behind his head and with his body, grinds down harder on Felix’s shamefully growing erection. Fuck Dimitri and his beastly strength, his clawed gauntlets, every fucking piece of rubble and pebble Felix can feel pressed at his back. Another moan - unmistakable this time - rips itself from Felix’s throat and into their connected mouths.

When Dimitri breaks the kiss and sits himself upright.Felix makes a conscious effort not to buck up - he refuses to give him that satisfaction. He watches him as Dimitri undoes his left gauntlet, letting the metal clatter carelessly to the floor. “You’re nothing but a senseless beast,” Felix gasps. “Craving the anguish and suffering of everyone around you.” He coughs. “It doesn’t matter who, as long as blood is shed.”

He hears it before he feels it, and he feels it before he comprehends - Dimitri’s ungloved palm to his face, and the sting. His hand print must be glowing red on Felix’s cheek. 

“No,” Dimitri says. With surprising dexterity, Dimitri’s gloved hand works at Felix’s belts, snapping them open before roughly palming his front, squeezing through his pants to feel his ass, and Felix hisses. “Not senseless.” 

He grabs him, holding down on his clothed cock, and the feeling of it, the pressure, renders Felix momentarily speechless. “It gives me a sense of… control,” Dimitri admits, He squeezes harder, and it’s almost painful, and to Felix’s own shame, he feels himself twitch at the stimulation. Then Dimitri smiles, and it’s a nasty beautiful thing. “And not just anyone.”

“What -” is all Felix can say, before his pants are unceremoniously yanked downward, exposing him to the heat of Dimitri’s gaze and the cold of the night air. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Dimitri murmurs, eyes sweeping down Felix’s figure, as if that explains anything. He strokes Felix’s cheek where it stings, and his voice is so low that even if someone were to stand a pace away, they would not be able to hear - his words are for Felix alone. “So strong, and so proud, but I have to admit that seeing you come apart,” he skims his gauntleted hand across the skin of Felix’s stomach, trailing it up to Felix’s chest - not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to leave trails of pink. Felix lets out a shaky breath. “And knowing that I alone am the cause, and no one else.” Dimitri is rutting against his thigh and Felix can feel just what the thought does to him as he says it. “That I alone can break you, then pleasure you, put you back together,” he grins. “It gives me satisfaction like no other.”

At last, Dimitri reaches down, his palm going lower and lower, towards Felix’s cock. Felix, he can’t help himself - he shifts his hips up, towards his hand, but Dimitri ignores that area entirely, reaching instead behind, further between his legs. Felix whines involuntarily at the lack of contact, but Dimitri just laughs. “So you’ll be good for me, won’t you, Felix? Your Prince.”

“No,” Felix breathes, but he doesn’t sound convincing, not even to himself, especially when his breath hitches as Dimitri’s thick finger reaches his hole, circling the sensitive rim but never quite going in, and it’s frustrating.

Dimitri responds with a chuckle. A second later, another flash of pain, when Dimitri digs his gloved hand into the meat of Felix’s tensed inner thigh, and Felix screams. “You’ll take it,” he promises, “And you’ll like it. You’ll beg me for it -" Without a warning, his finger breaches Felix, and without lubricant, it burns. " - because you. Are. _Mine._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a rather experimental piece for me, but I wanted to be short and snappy, as implied by the title - a literal bite of fic. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
